Precipice candle-lit
camouflaged burns torn
woken fast in bloody bayonet
frocks insatiably milk churned
I tripped and called out your name
on falling prowling came to mind
through an unknown gate, late
and then I woke dizzy
spokes unfettered but meaning less
than before
while wheeling down hills of never ending
clever proportions swung
towards Home
Precipice candle-flicked
dark on the front
escaping to the black
houses of clutter
where no one lives
and camouflage licks
dashed hopes from the wounds
of all fires ever there
inflicted and spooned
undertow slept
as I dreamed
pistacchio nuts in dry lap
watching a harmless movie
go away Scene
come back in the Act
splinter my porous nut
over a hard stone of sultry solace